


before you I had nowhere to run to

by pettigrace



Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disability, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friendship, Paralysis, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettigrace/pseuds/pettigrace
Summary: When Rachel is bound to a wheelchair after an accident, leaving her paralyzed from the shoulders down, she finds a new companion in Quinn Fabray.





	before you I had nowhere to run to

**Author's Note:**

  * For [milleniumrex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milleniumrex/gifts).



> This was prompted to me by [wombatking](http://wombatking.tumblr.com) on tumblr, accompanied with a really big outline that I won't type down here to avoid spoilers, but it pretty much boils down to what is written in the summary.  
> As I told you before, I glossed over most of the medical things due to a lack of knowledge and rather focussed on Rachel and Quinn's relationship and how it changed. I hope you enjoy it as much as I liked writing it! :)
> 
> The title is from Hurts' "Stay".

One of the rarer sights you could get of the New Directions is to have them sit together without any bickering going on. Usually there’s  _ someone _ who’d be unhappy with  _ something _ , even during the performance of someone else. But today, they’re all laughing and chattering happily as they drink some fake champagne that Mr Schue has brought along. It’s only understandable that for once they’re getting along - they’d already celebrated in the hotel rooms and on the way back to Lima but now that they’re back in the choir room, back  _ home, _ the atmosphere became ecstatic again. It’s not everyday that they can enjoy the feeling of having won  _ Nationals _ and rub it into the face of everyone who ever underestimated them.

Rachel had even offered a few autographs upon entering the school building, but her classmates had seemed too shy to accept them. She can understand, naturally, that the knowledge of going to school with some of the best young talents of America is quite stressful, but she hopes they won’t constantly freeze up in her presence.

It’s comfortable to be sitting in the midst of rows of people who are aware of what a great accomplishment she’s done but don’t treat her like that - she supposes it would have been nice if anyone actually appreciated what she’s done for the club, but joining their laughters without earning irritated glances seems like enough right now. 

“We should have an actual party.”, Noah bellows over the sound of everyone talking at some point, making them shut up instantly and shoot a look at him. “I mean, we won Nationals  _ and _ it’s summer soon. That’s worth more than alcohol-free cidre.”

Rachel’s already expecting them all to agree without any further discussion - she’s become used to the others’ shenanigans by now, of course - but first Mercedes says, “And, no offense, Mr Schue, but sometimes you just gotta do stuff without teachers.”

Frowning, Rachel opens her mouth to point out that Mr Schuester has every right to be present as well. After all, he’s the one who has granted her enough solos to make sure that they’d win the competition - that is worth being invited to a celebration, right? 

She’s cut off by Kurt, however, before a single word can leave her mouth. He leans over a bit and mumbles through his teeth, “It  _ would _ be a bit weird to hang out with a teacher in a non-school environment.”

There’s teasing in his words, but still Rachel can’t deny there’s some truth to them. It probably wouldn’t be just weird to  _ them _ but to outsiders - and authorities especially - as well.

Soon enough, the room erupts into frantic chatter again - not in the playful and happy way they’d had before but more aggravated, almost as if they were fighting again. It’s so fast and so many discussions happening at once (Santana talking to Brittany, Tina telling Mike about the pros and cons of the idea, Sam leaning over to Artie to cheer with him about it) that even Rachel has her struggles with keeping up. What becomes clear soon, though, is how as nice as the idea may be there will be lots of problem in its execution.

None of them has such a big home that it could give them the space to do more than just hang around. The football field is out of question because being on school's ground after hours was always borderline criminal, and especially with such a large group. BreadstiX would be both too small and apparently unfitting to what the others had in mind, the mall isn’t the right place either… They come up with the most ridiculous suggestions until  _ Finn _ has one of his genius moments.

“Hey, Quinn,  _ you _ have a lake house!”, he suddenly says, raising both his hands as if he’s just found the cure for AIDS. 

In response to that, there’s an uproar of voices. Sam’s patting Finn’s back in appreciation of that idea and Brittany jumps up and down excitedly, clapping her hands. Artie and Mike instantly start discussing what one could do.

What nobody notices, though, is the torn look that Quinn wears. She looks like she wants to agree, like she doesn’t want to let the others down, and at the same time something stops her from it. Rachel watches as she frowns, opening her mouth just to close it again.

“Guys!”, she calls in Quinn’s place, as loud as she can to make everyone else shut up. It takes a few more tries and for her to get to the front, but soon everyone looks at her - most of them with negative expressions. “Maybe you should let Quinn say something about that.”

In response, at least Finn, Mike and Kurt have the decency to frown a bit, apparently feeling at least somewhat guilty for just talking about her. Tina and Mercedes turn their heads to Quinn at least, so that counts for something.

Santana, however, just scoffs. “ _ Please _ , Berry. We all know that Quinn’s just waiting for a way to get back at her dear daddy.”

At that Quinn’s eyebrows raise up, as if she hadn’t realized that before. Of course, they’re all aware of the history Quinn has with her father - they’d all meant to help her back then, and when her mother filed for divorce from him, things got better again. But still, Rachel can’t imagine she’d let it subside just like that. She remembers the last time someone has taken a solo from her and how long she’d been angry about that - of course, those are hardly the same but she supposes the quality of them is comparable nonetheless.

So, all in all, it doesn’t come as a surprise when she sees Quinn’s lips curl up into a smile. It seems almost devilish and Rachel’s reminded of how Quinn used to be, the evil version of herself that pressure from all sides formed, when she nods. “Yeah, let’s do it in my lake house.”

Rachel’s still standing in front of the piano when everyone erupts into cheers and watches how Quinn turns half-way around in her seat to discuss it further with the others. She does shoot a look at Rachel from the side of her eyes, one that isn’t as pissed off as she’d have expected. It’s almost like she’s looking for reassurance, but maybe Rachel’s reading it wrong.

Instead of dwelling on that, she stalks back to her seat. The others are practically screaming right now, excited about what their party could become and despite herself, she smiles.

 

-

 

In the end, when it has become time for the party to actually take place (the club had quickly agreed on doing it on the last day of school, so that it’d be easy to connect it to the beginning of summer), Rachel feels more than hesitant to go there. 

From the sounds of it, the guys have decided to invite other Football players along, while Santana insisted on having fellow Cheerios around. After all, Quinn’s back in the team and has to ‘deem herself worthy’ somehow. If lots of those people show up, it’s very likely for the whole celebration to escalate. There’ll be alcohol, maybe even drugs, and - worst of all - less than mediocre attempts at singing along to loud music. It could turn out to be a nightmare.

It’s taken Kurt to persuade her then. It could’ve been surprising, actually, that he’d push so hard for her to join him - but well, he’s not become more open in himself but also to her. They’ve become actual close friends since Mr Schue took over the club. It’s charming that he wants her around so badly, and she would have felt bad to let him down like that, so she joined them after all.

The address that Finn has forwarded to her leads her to one of the lakes just outside of Lima - she probably shouldn’t be surprised that the Fabrays would go for the biggest one. It fits to the house that the party is supposed to happen in; or more accurately:  _ is _ happening in. There’s already rows of cars in the street leading up to the minimalistic building, most of them some that Rachel doesn’t recognize. It’s indication enough that people actually followed the invitations spread out by the others - she supposes that it’s understandable, that they all want to enjoy the spotlight with them now. 

And yet, she feels uneasy about it, primarily since she’s read more than enough stories where welcoming people into their own fame was the downfall for many stars. Sometimes you have to think of what is best for you, and not everyone else.

Still, she climbs out of her car and walks down to the house. It is a celebration of the glee club, after all, and it probably wouldn’t look too good if the lead singer weren’t there.

It’s too loud inside and Rachel’s mood quickly worsens when she realizes there isn’t even a karaoke machine. Instead, there’s loud pop music and people chattering over drinks, some even making out. And she can’t find anyone who could make the evening more pleasant (she supposes that Kurt and Blaine have gone somewhere together, and seeing how she and Finn broke up only two weeks ago it would feel weird to go talk to him), so she decides to head out as soon as she’s able to see a back door. 

It’s a glass door and through it she sees the lake, the moonlight reflecting on it. Surprisingly, it seems like everyone has stayed inside rather than to spread out onto the lawn and the footbridge. Maybe it is yet too early for that and everyone’s planning to stay close to the drinks first.

Rachel’s glad that she’s thought of putting on her bikini after all. She’s hoped that maybe it would only be the New Directions despite what everyone was planning - she knows that everyone’s reputation has decreased ever since they joined the club, so there was no guarantee the jocks would’ve followed the invitation. They may be around now, but she still has the privacy of everyone being inside, so takes off her clothing until she’s in her bathing gear. It’s the beginning of summer, so she barely notices the lack of fabrics.

Still, it’s dark and she can’t see anything but how the moon and stars reflect on the water’s surface - meaning the others won’t watch her either. It’s not that she’d consider it close to, say, stalking or anything; she has no problem with people’s eyes on her, she’s a performer. But the people present inside of the small house are also the ones who used to throw slushies at her.

And yet, once she’s already here, she supposes she can’t really leave without going into the lake at least once. It’s been a while since she last went swimming and it’s been one of the things Kurt has used to convince her to come here. 

So she dives into the water rather sooner than later.

 

-

 

When Rachel opens her eyes, she remembers. She remembers the evening, the party she didn’t want to go to, the water on her skin. She even remembers hitting her head, how the pain seemed to go straight to her toes, making her twist under water.

There’s also been voices, silhouettes of faces or heads - she isn’t sure. Lights in seemingly every colour and -- pain. Everywhere and nowhere, one limb after the other and everything at the same time.

Right now, though, she doesn’t feel anything. That is, until her gaze meets the ceiling and she’s met with too bright lights, making her squint. 

She tries to move a bit, to turn to the side or pull the blanket over her head, but finds that she’s unable to do so. It’s weird, because usually she’s fit as soon as she wakes up, thanks to her hard regime that she keeps up to every day. But she’s been out last night, and apparently hurt her head at least somewhat, so it’s no surprise after all that she’s not at the top of her game just yet.

“Rachel, honey,” she suddenly hears a voice. The next moment, Hiram’s face appears in front of her eyes, wearing concern in his own. Once he really sees that she’s awake, though, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Can you hear me?”

She tries to open her mouth, but it’s like she’s blocked there, straining her muscles. She does manage to move her head, however, which seems to be indication enough for her father.

“Hang in there, sweetheart, I’ll tell the doctors.”

Doctors? That would explain the light - it’s brighter than in her own room, and she doubts anyone would like to have such an aggressive lighting in their own. She must’ve hurt her head worse than she’d expected if she’s in a hospital. Of course, she’s not an expert when it comes to anything medical, but it could be a concussion - if treated right it shouldn’t be so bad. And being in a hospital already means she’s doing things right.

She watches as he leaves the room, not fully closing the door behind himself. His steps seem tired, she notices, as if he’d spent multiple hours not using his legs. What time is it? For how long had she been unconscious? Wouldn’t it have been dangerous if she’d really passed out?

Before she can wonder about anything for too long, her dad comes back inside, hurrying to her side without stopping ever so slightly. He sits down on the chair next to her bed again, stroking a hand over her cheek softly. “The doctor’ll be here in a bit, sweetheart.”

Rachel notes that he’s not asking her how she feels. Should she appreciate that? That way she wouldn’t have to try to answer and end up straining her voice. It makes sense, naturally - she’d hit her head under water, after all. She must have swallowed some of it. 

One of her friends must have discovered that she’d disappeared not long after arriving at the party, she supposes. Maybe it had been Finn who’d noticed first because he’d wanted to speak to her and get back together. It would have been awfully romantic, like a scene from a movie, if he had saved her. It’s amazing how similar fiction and real life can be sometimes.

It really doesn’t take long until the door open again and a tall old man whom she doesn’t know steps inside, dressed all in white. A young brown-haired nurse follows him, carrying a clipboard. Both of them look serious, albeit Rachel would say that at least the girl seems to be nice. She looks almost apologetic.

“Hello Ms Berry,” the doctor says, his voice as grim as his face. “I’m Dr Sumers. How are you feeling?”

Rachel hesitates. How  _ is _ she feeling? She only just woke up, the only thing she can even  _ feel _ right now is a headache. She tells the doctor as much, her voice croaking as she speaks - and sending a wave of worry to her brain. “This is only temporary, isn’t it? My voice will come back?”

Dr Sumers raises an eyebrow at her, as if it was a ridiculous question. Then he nods, “Yes, I believe your voice will be back to its full capacity in a few days.” 

He’s saying more, but Rachel tunes out at that. Even if she’s broken a bone, it’ll be healed within two months - what she cares about is her  _ voice _ . Her  _ talent _ . She remembers how hard it had been when she wasn’t able to sing for a week, how depressed she’d felt about it. So as long as her voice is gonna be alright, she doesn’t have anything to worry about. Besides, she probably wouldn’t understand a single technical term that the doctor would throw at her, so she just nods at times that seem appropriate.

In the end, the doctor sighs gravely (it appears that it is his default mode) before telling the nurse something about  _ something _ that sounds like painkillers and Rachel smiles gratefully. 

“Is it, uh, safe for me to sleep?”, Rachel asks. “I’m tired.”

At that Hiram shoots an alarmed look at the doctor, as if he didn’t have a clue what it could mean. They both get a nod in return and after a few more pleasantries the doctor tells her to get her rest and leaves, the nurse behind him.

“I’ll have to call your dad,” Hiram says after a few moments. He looks not only just tired any more, but almost shocked. It must be the relief about her setting in, Rachel supposes. He moves a hand over her hair. “You really should sleep then.”

She nods but as he gets up she calls out again, “Hey, dad? Can you tell me-- who got me out of the lake?”

He hesitates for a second, as if he isn’t sure if she really wants to know. And it really  _ is _ a surprise when he says, “Quinn Fabray.”

 

-

 

Rachel’s sure that it will only take a few more days until she’s able to move again - her dad had been quite shocked when she asked him about it, as if she should have known she was paralyzed for the time being -, but she still hates the feeling of doing  _ nothing _ . Penny, the nurse that had stopped by earlier and is apparently  _ her _ nurse, claimed that it is too early for something close to physical therapy - Rachel doesn’t quite agree with her on that. After all, she doesn’t have anything real that makes it impossible and, frankly, she’d rather not keep lying here as if there’s nothing better to do.

That is to say: she knows, of course, to let her body have its way - she’s always treated it with respect, doing her workout in the mornings and only eating healthy things. So if it demands a break, she will grant it one. She only wished it wouldn’t take  _ so long _ . She could have dealt with a cold, but being literally bound to bed is not only extremely boring but frustrating.

It’s a silver lining then when after a couple more days Kurt shows up in her hospital room, carrying a big bouquet of all kinds of flowers with him. It’s a colourful mix of various kinds that Rachel can’t name since learning  _ what _ flowers fans could give her never seemed important, but she can tell he has only picked them out for their appearance anyway. It’s a good combination, aesthetically pleasing just like you’d expect from him.

He looks sheepish as he steps in, his head ducked into the collar of his blazer, and he seems almost  _ nervous _ . 

“Hey,” he says softly. The flowers are set down on the bedside table - currently without a vase - and his eyes are fixed on Rachel. “Is it-- uh, can I hug you?”

Rachel nods. “If you’re not offended that I can’t hug you back.”

In return, Kurt hesitates a little, but in the end he bends down and scoops his arms underneath her shoulders, pulling her up a little. She can’t tell how firmly he’s hugging her, but she does notice the way his head vibrates against her chin, so it’s no surprise when he wipes his eyes quickly when he ends the embrace.

“Sorry,” he says quickly and sniffs a little, “it’s just-- I didn’t think something would happen-- and without me-”

“Kurt,” Rachel says. Her voice is thin in comparison to his, mostly because she’s confused. Why would he be crying? “You think this is  _ your _ fault?”

Kurt sniffs again, wiping at his eyes once more. “I know it’s stupid, but without me you wouldn’t even have been there! Or, at the very least, I could have actually spent time with you.”

Rachel shakes her head as well as possible in her position. “You didn’t push me into the water, did you?” 

She can tell that Kurt isn’t convinced yet, the way his lip still trembles. There’s a sadness in his eyes that’s aimed at her, tears still visible in them, and she decides to smile a bit to shoo them away.

“Besides, we can forget about this soon anyway.”, she tells him. “Once I’m out of here, it’ll be like a joke between us, I can see it already.”

Kurt blinks a few times in response. “But I-- I talked to LeRoy and he said that you’re  _ paralyzed _ .”

“For the moment,” Rachel insists. “I’ll be back to good when school starts again.”

“Really?”, he asks, his voice quivering. When Rachel nods, he looks relieved and cracks a smile. There’s still uncertainty in his eyes, she can tell, as if he doesn’t fully believe her - understandable, considering what she currently must look like. But he doesn’t outright fight her about it, so she doesn’t mention it. He’ll see.

“Yes, so you better quit this pity party and prepare to get your ears blown away come fall.”

Kurt laughs at that, still a bit strained - but then it reaches his eyes and Rachel laughs along. As if she hadn’t meant that threat seriously.

 

-

 

It shouldn’t surprise her that Quinn would stop by, too, come to think of it. After all, it had not only happened at her lake house, but the cheerleader had also been the one who got her out of the water. According to her fathers she’d even been determined to drive to the hospital with her because she was panicking so hard.

By now Rachel knows what to expect when someone comes inside, the way they hover at the door for a moment before coming closer: it’s happened with her dad when he arrived after learning she woke up and it happened with Kurt. There’s always concern, fear for her, visible in every part of the other person’s body, and Quinn is no exception. 

She’s slow as she moves to the bed and Rachel takes the opportunity to clear the air immediately.

“I wouldn't worry.”, she says seriously. “Once I'm getting out, I'll be fine to perform again in a few weeks and we'll win again.”

Quinn stares at her in return, sitting down on the chair in the process. Rachel would have expected a glare, actually, to see her roll her eyes at Rachel's determination, but instead Quinn looks… she looks sad. Not in a way she should look if she were jealous at the prospect of Rachel getting all the solos again, but as if something wasn't wrong with  _ her _ but with Rachel.

And somehow, she'd rather have the former. Something about Quinn looking at her like that makes her really uncomfortable, so Rachel does what she's best at: lift her chin and  _ act _ . 

“I hope none of you guys will be too sad at the realization of getting no solos yet again.”, she says seriously, even giving her a small smile. It's true; some of the others would probably like her to stay in the hospital even when school starts again so that they'd have a chance to take the spotlight. Of course, she could even actually give up a few solos during the practices as long as she'll still get to shine during the competitions. Without her, the club wouldn't win - and no talent scouts would have the opportunity to find her. It would be awful for everyone.

“Rachel…”, Quinn starts slowly, avoiding her eye. Instead, her own are fixed on where her hands lie on her lap. She seems unsure about what to say, because when she continues it sounds like she changed the topic. “Did anyone visit you yet?”

Rachel figures it would be redundant to say that her fathers have been here -  _ of course _ they’ve been here. Quinn is probably asking about the rest of the New Directions. “Kurt has been here,” she answers slowly. “I guess he felt like it was his fault.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow. “Why would he think so?”

Now it's Rachel's turn to look away. She turns to look at the painting on the wall, taking in its colours while wondering how offended Quinn could be. They've only just become friends, she wouldn't want to have her look with her eyes filled with hatred again. But then… truth is also a part of friendship, isn't it? And she's never before backed down from telling someone what she really thinks. 

“I didn't want to come to the party, at first. But Kurt was really persistent about it.”, she tells her. “I just didn't feel like it served its purpose when Footballers and Cheerios were going to be there, you know?”

Quinn presses her lips together and frowns, looking like she’s thinking about it. “It did get a bit wild…”, she agrees. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t have stopped Santana and Noah from inviting anyone.”

At that, something changes in Quinn’s expression. Her lips tremble as she pulls them into a sad smile and when their eyes meet again, Rachel can see hers are wet. 

“It’s just-- if you hadn’t gone outside-- if it had just been the club, you wouldn’t have--”

“Quinn,” Rachel cuts her off sharply. She’d move forward, make Quinn look at her by grabbing her shoulders, but she can’t. Instead, she orders, “Take my hand.”

Quinn looks up at her in surprise but follows suit. They both look down for a moment, taking in their joined hands, and Rachel suppresses a hysterical laughter at the realization that she  _ really _ doesn’t feel anything.

She catches herself before that, though, and speaks up again. “I told Kurt before and I’ll tell you now: This is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine for abandoning all behaviour rules I ever learnt when it comes to lakes.”, she says, giving a small smile at the end. 

Quinn opens her mouth as if to reply but closes it again before a single sound leaves it. Instead, she lifts her free hand and wipes at her eyes quickly. “It isn’t your fault either, then.”, she insists. “It was a stupid accident.”

“Stupid.”, Rachel repeats. “Yeah, and now I’m benched for the rest of the summer. I’ll have to master the arts of singing while lying down.”

It’s meant as a joke, somehow, but the effect isn’t there. Quinn’s lip doesn’t even do so much as twitch - it’s back to the serious expression she’d worn when she came in earlier, in a way that makes Rachel drop her own smile again. 

She supposes that it is like this with them; jokes are taken the wrong way, every bit of peace between them lasts only for a few seconds because they’re just so different. Rachel could tell her that there’s more than enough singers who’ve performed in extreme situations and that belting out tunes in the most random positions is practically a given for a musical actress, but she’s sure Quinn wouldn’t want to hear any about that.

They fall into a silence filled with tension instead of words, looking at each other in turns. She can feel Quinn’s eyes on her, but whenever she looks back the other directs her gaze down on her hands again, sometimes even the flowers on her bedside table. 

Rachel feels like she should say something, thank Quinn for getting her out of the water and into safety but whenever she opens her mouth - she can’t find the words. Quinn could understand it in the wrong way, as if Rachel were surprised that she isn’t a heartless person after all or something like that. And then, how do you tell someone they saved your life? Appreciation can’t be enough.

She doesn’t know for how long they keep sitting like that, but it feels like ages until Quinn lets out a heavy sigh. It’s one that sounds tired and definite, so Rachel isn’t surprised to see her get up from where she’s sitting.

“I better get going.”, Quinn explains, already moving to the door. She only looks over her shoulder once more when she opens it and adds, “I’ll be back.”

Rachel frowns after her even when the door’s closed again. Why would Quinn feel the need to come back? For her, whenever a conversation stagnates into nothingness it’s indication enough that all is done and said - that is, usually. Right now, she can agree that they’ll need to talk to each other again soon, to talk about  _ this _ .

 

-

 

“What do you think, how long does it take until my arms are good enough again?”

Rachel didn’t even consider making smalltalk first. She’d been on the verge of blurting it out for days now, but whenever the doctor came in he’d talk about her blood and whether her  _ concussion _ had any long-lasting effects. Penny’s just entered the room, though, seems to be one of those who don’t start conversations ever. Meaning that if Rachel has to initiate one, she can also shift its direction to a topic of  _ her _ interest.

Penny looks up from the paper she’d been carrying inside, frowning a little. Rachel takes in her appearance - in another life, she supposes, she could be a model. Maybe even an actress. She could be cast in a contemporary retelling of a fairytale classic or just generally as a sweet-looking girl. She can’t be much older than her, so Rachel assumes she must be in training still. Would she even know an answer to her question? 

“I-- I thought they told you?”, she says finally, still looking unsure. Her voice, whoever, carries a kind of certainty that tells Rachel to trust whatever she’s going to say next. “Miss Berry, the likelihood of you ever being able to move again lies at 10%.”

“I know.”, Rachel answers. That much she’s been told. And ten percent can easily become twenty percent, then next fifty and then it’s a hundred. What she wants to know, though, is  _ when _ it’s going to start. She tells her as much.

This time, the nurse reminds her more of Quinn than any fictional character she’s ever encountered. The way she presses her lips together, and the raise of her brows - it’s pretty much the same look Quinn gave her when she’d been here yesterday. It gives her both a feeling of anxiety and comfort.

Penny seems to be carefully choosing her words. It takes a few seconds until she slowly says, “10% is closer to zero than you think.”

Of course, Rachel’s not an idiot. She may be more invested in the arts, but that doesn’t mean basic mathematics go over her head. And yet, with the nurse turning her own words against her, it’s as if Rachel is only realizing that now. That the chances of staying the same are beating those for getting better.

Something inside of her is dropping, wrapping itself around her heart, and she opens her mouth to reply something, but it’s like whatever’s making itself a home inside of her clogs her throat. She lies there, opening her mouth and closing it again, and feels her lips start to tremble.

Penny has stepped closer during their conversation and now she’s lifting her hand, stroking over Rachel’s head softly. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly before pulling back again.

Rachel knows that the protocol would say she has to nod or to say that it’s okay, it’s not Penny’s fault after all, but she can’t. It’s like someone put a pause on her body - the head, too, suddenly. She’s barely felt Penny’s hand and the words she says are a quiet muffle, a sound going against cotton until that’s suddenly gone as well.

Suddenly, the soft yellow of the wall seems both pretty and awful at the same time.

 

-

 

She’s immovable, why should she make her head an exception? Why should she lift it when her fathers visit, why should she reply with more than noncommittal sounds when they try to talk to her? She could try to explain to them - the disappointment, the hurt, the  _ pain _ about the fact that her life is  _ over _ . She could try to explain to them that all her life  she’s worked for one thing, and that it’s gone now. But they should know, shouldn’t they? They  _ do _ know, she’s sure. Then why should she talk about it?

The ceiling is more interesting anyway.

 

-

 

It almost becomes a routine for her to  _ not care _ . To just keep her eyes fixed on  _ something _ for the whole day and have everything the others say roll over her. She doesn’t even know what her fathers or Penny or the doctor are saying - it’s a rhythm that doesn’t feel like one; a monotony in its saddest sounds.

And it would have stayed the same, for who knows how long, until suddenly there’s a dissonance appearing right in front of her face, leaning down as if that alone would make Rachel sit up. 

Admittedly, it does cause her to do the best she can: Quinn appearing  _ again _ is odd enough to make Rachel snap up her head as far as possible and finally find some  _ interest _ again. She would have thought that the one visit would have been enough. After all, it’s not like she and Quinn were close - to be exact, even the word  _ friends _ seems to overestimating their relationship. They’ve talked about what happened and that they won’t put either of them at fault; there’s nothing more to talk about.

And yet, Quinn is  _ here _ . She stands up again as soon as she notices the movement in Rachel, as if the closeness was weird now that she has her attention. Maybe it really is.

“Quinn?”, Rachel breathes, moving her head back a bit so it’s on the fluffy side of the pillow. This way she probably seems more alert than before.

“Ah, so you do have a voice,” Quinn says dryly. For a moment Rachel thinks there’s a smile on her face. “Got people worried, Berry.”

Rachel frowns at her. Of course, her absence couldn’t have possibly been unnoticed by her fathers at least but would they talk to Quinn about it? What for? If they had mentioned it to Finn or Kurt even, she would have understood - they care about her. But Quinn?

It’s not like Quinn would be remotely concerned about her. Even now, the way she stands above her with her arms crossed and lips pursed, she looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “I know you think we’re good with funk because we blew Jesse over with it, but that’s not a musical phase you have, is it?”

Truth be told, Rachel wouldn’t even have thought that she remembers it. Of course, the whole club had been angry at Jesse but she would have expected them to forget about it immediately. After all, it was more of a personal vendetta against her - and why should the others care about something that happens to  _ her _ ?

It might be the surprise, but she doesn’t even hesitate before answering. “No, it isn’t.”

Quinn nods slowly. “So your brain caught up on… everything?”

“ _ Everything _ ?”, Rachel repeats. Her voice slips up a bit as she continues, “ _ Everything _ ? You mean the fact that my life is  _ over _ ?”

“You’re breathing.”, Quinn says dryly.

“And that’s the most I got!”, Rachel exclaims. “How am I supposed to perform now? I  _ can’t move _ ! Who’ll want to hire someone who can’t  _ act _ ?”

Quinn doesn’t even hesitate. “You  _ can _ still act.”, she says firmly. There’s a determination in her voice, almost aggressive, and if Rachel didn’t know  _ what _ she was saying, her instincts would tell her to back down. There’s a passion behind that, one that’s usually fighting  _ against _ her.

“Oh yes? And how exactly?”, Rachel demands to know.

“Think of--”, Quinn starts but trails off, apparently not sure what to talk about. Rachel frowns. There isn’t much they have in common, so Quinn will have a hard time finding something she can relate to. Not that she even wants to relate to anything, she’d rather be left alone. “Think of Elle Woods.”

“Elle Woods?”, Rachel repeats.

Quinn nods. Her voice is almost soft now, a sharp contrast to what it’s been before. “You know? Legally Blonde? She’s this badass girl who--”

“--applies to Harvard and gets in, I know. I’d decided that she’d be my first Off-Broadway role, provided that they accept someone who’s not blonde. Or tall.”, Rachel says. Then she adds, bitterly, “Or someone  _ disabled _ .”

She halfway expects Quinn to start softly again, to tell her in sweet words about  _ something _ , but as always Quinn is more like a storm. She’s being real when she is like that, in contrast to the role she used to play before she became pregnant. She’s grabbed Rachel’s hands before she even finished talking, pushing them down on the bed and leaning forward so that their faces are only centimetres apart.

“Listen, Berry.”, she drawls. “I hate to admit it, but you’re one of the strongest people I know. And if you set your mind on becoming a star despite… despite your  _ new _ situation, you will be able  _ to do _ it.”

In response, Rachel presses her lips together. Of course, looking back she realizes there’s been nothing that’s been able to set her back greatly - but then again, nothing has ever been so  _ permanent _ , so omnipresent. You can change people’s mindsets. You can hide your real face if your performance is wonderful enough. But what if you aren’t  _ able _ to perform? How should she possibly do it?

Still, she has Quinn Fabray on her side, as unrealistic as it sounds. And, come to think of it, she probably won’t be the only one. There’s people in the glee club who genuinely like her, and even those who don’t - like Quinn - must realize her potential. And then there’s Artie. Of course, he can do  _ more _ than her but… he makes it work. She probably can, too.

“You know what?”, Rachel says, pushing his chin up. “You’re absolutely right.”

 

-

 

A few days go by in which Rachel lets the whole meeting with Quinn happen in revue. It’s been weird to have her there, to hear her cheer her on, but somehow it’s been exactly what she’s needed. What’s a better motivation than having your  _ enemy _ say that you’re good?

She’d have to find out if there’s any possibility to regain at least some of her mobility, maybe in the hands so that she’ll be able to use a joystick on a wheelchair, like Artie does. Physical therapy probably won’t help her immediately, though, but over a longer period of time, so she’ll have to find something that will work at the beginning of the school year.

“Hey, Penny?”, Rachel calls, lifting her head a little to gain her attention. 

There’s the sound of a tap running but quickly being turned closed again as the nurse replies, “Hang on, give me a sec!” There’s a hint of confusion in her voice, Rachel’s trained ear is able to spot it. It’s not really a surprise, considering she’d been rather aggressive towards her whenever Penny’d meant to be helpful.

Penny enters the room within a few moments, still wiping her hands with a paper towel while she steps in. She almost appears to be anxious as she steps closer, looking at Rachel with concern.

“Is everything alright?”, she wants to know.

Rachel nods quickly to reassure her. “I was wondering if-- If you had any information?”

Penny raises an eyebrow. “Information?”

“On-- on how to deal with this. Like, properly. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing  _ nothing _ . I need to be able to  _ perform _ .”, Rachel explains. “I have a friend in a wheelchair who is quite good. He’s able to move his hands, though, but I figured…”

She’s relieved when she isn’t met with a pitying look. She’d almost expected that Penny would tell her it’s impossible, that there’s no way she’ll ever find her way onto stage again - the things her mind had fed her during the last week. But while Penny doesn’t look exactly positive, she doesn’t say that Rachel is an optimistic idiot for thinking so far.

“Of course you will be mobile again!”, Penny exclaims, almost smiling at her. “There’s enough methods to lead a life even when you’re physically impaired.”

Rachel nods along to her words. She hadn’t been able to look anything up, but it had been pretty apparent that there must be  _ something _ . After all, it can’t possibly be that paralyzed people are left in their beds for the rest of their days. 

“It will obviously be different than before,” Penny continues, “but you can get a wheelchair that’s manoeuvrable with your mouth. There are options that have a control system that-- I suppose to the untrained eye, it might look like a straw.”

“It would mean that I couldn’t move  _ while _ singing, though, right?”, Rachel wants to know. She jots it down on her mental list of things to read about.

“I’m afraid so.”, Penny agrees with a frown. Then she adds, “But in musical theatre-- you will probably be with someone on the stage then, right? If someone wants your talents, they’ll have to adjust to you.”

Rachel wants to agree - ever since she was a kid, she’d been taught not to let people run over her. To ask for things as well. But this could turn out to be too much. There’s so many roles she won’t even be considered for, either because the character moving around a lot is a top requirement or maybe because it doesn’t fit to the setting… And while she’s sure that her voice would be enough to win her other parts, she fears that some people might settle for not as talented actresses simply because they wouldn’t have to rewrite parts of their performances then. 

It’s not something she should be thinking about on her own. She needs someone who’s realistic and critical enough to tell her the truth, whether it’s reasonable to even  _ try _ . 

“Can you pick up my phone and text Quinn Fabray? I’d like her to come around.”, she asks Penny, nodding over to where her phone lies on the nightstand.

Penny follows suit, even doing so much as showing Rachel the message to approve it. It’s sweet of her, actually, that she is so understanding and willing to help that Rachel feels bad for her behaviour before. She should apologize when the time comes. 

For now, though, she has to scheme.

 

-

 

Quinn looks rather hesitant when she arrives a few hours later, holding onto the door for longer than necessary. She looks around frantically as if she were expecting someone else to be in the room as well and only slowly stops inside.

“Hello,” Rachel greets her carefully. The last time they’d seen each other did not go really well, so she can imagine it could be a stressful meeting.

“Hi.”, Quinn answers. She stands up straighter as if she only realizes now that she can easily be spotted. “What’s up?”

It’s amazing what a difference a single phrase can make. Rachel feels delighted when she realizes that Quinn might be the first one to greet her properly - not by asking if she’s alright, but in a normal fashion. It only reassures her in talking to Quinn about this. She may be unsure if it’s alright to treat Rachel normally but with a little encouragement that won’t be a problem, she supposes.

“We need to discuss something.”, she prompts then, nodding for her to come closer. “You need to be honest with me.”

Quinn raises her eyebrows at that but steps up to the bed nonetheless. “What’s this about?”

“What you’d said. The last time you were here.”, Rachel adds, even though she’s sure such a memorable conversation can’t be forgotten by either of them. She takes a deep breath and looks up into Quinn’s eyes and says with all the certainty she can muster, “I want to get back into the spotlight.”

Now the scepticism vanishes from Quinn’s face, replacing it with actual surprise. After a moment or so, she starts smiling a bit. “I knew you’d come around. And let me guess: You already have a plan?”

Rachel can’t help but return her smile. It’s fascinating, really, that for all the distance between them Quinn seems to know her quite well. She keeps her eyes on her while she tells her about what she’s thought about so far, to see what she thinks right away. She’d stop if Quinn’s expression told her to, if it said it wouldn’t work, but despite a few grimaces it doesn’t seem to be too unrealistic.

When she's finished, Quinn keeps looking at her with a serious expression. It makes Rachel feel vulnerable, not just on the prospect that maybe she thinks her idea is ridiculous, but as if she was see-through. Having Quinn look at her this intensively makes her swallow and she puts her chin forward in reflex.

Finally a corner of Quinn's mouth goes up. “You know what? If anyone can do this it's you.”

“You think so?”

“ _ Yes _ .”, Quinn answers. She leans forward and takes one of Rachel's hands into her own. “I told you before.”

It's been Quinn's words that even made her think about it any further, that made her consider it as a real possibility. But to hear her say it again, after hearing what it would involve - it assures Rachel even more. It could've been that seeing the background of a random idea made her realize it was impossible after all. But apparently it's not.

Quinn is a practical, realistic girl. She doesn't go chase dreams that seem out of her range, unlike Rachel, so if she says it could work… it  _ will _ work.

Still, she insists. “I need to get back on stage.”

“And you will.”, Quinn replies softly. She reaches forward, tugging a strand of Rachel's hair behind her ear. It's a small gesture but it makes her smile back. “Otherwise I'll kick your ass.”

At that Rachel can’t help but laugh out loud, throwing her head back in the process. Quinn lets go off her hand as well, but only to chuckle along. There’s not a second where Rachel doubts her words - both of them are well aware that despite their (relatively new) friendship it could still go back to how ugly it’s been before with them. But this time it’s in good nature, at least, so there’s no reason for her to bite back. 

She’s got Quinn Fabray on her side and it feels good.

 

-

 

Convincing her fathers of her idea hadn’t been as easy as she’s figured. Both of them are still worked up from everything that’s happened, Rachel can easily tell just by looking at them: the dark circles under their eyes are indication for both lack of sleep and, presumably, tears. Oh, how badly she wishes she could wrap them in a hug like she used to. 

The Berrys are quite a touchy family, come to think of it. Rachel's been raised with hugs and dancing together, touching each other while singing - things that she won't be able to do any more now. Admittedly, she hadn't even realized that yet. Her focus had been on singing and dancing, the things she'd need for her future. She hadn't paid attention to the rest of her everyday-life.

Naturally she regrets it now that she sees her dads like this and is unable to comfort them properly. It feels weird to order them to touch her hand but she will have to get used to it. 

Her parents are worried for her. Particularly that she's getting her head into something impossible, she reckons. They've always been supportive of her talent, seeing how they're quite the stars themselves, but this is a whole different level. It's already seemed difficult for a small Jewish girl from the nowhere of Ohio to get in Broadway but now she's in a wheelchair on top of that. And not only that, she can't use  _ anything _ but her head.

She has to trust that she’s learnt well enough in her time as a performer to portray her feelings with mere looks, and that the people she’s facing can read them well enough. It should be possible for her fathers then, seeing how they have always been able to spot when she’d hidden her real thoughts. If they can find what she’s trying to hide, it should be easy enough for them to see what’s right there, right?

She puts as much love and positivity into the look she gives them as she talks. She’s determined enough that it will work, and if they believe her as she explains just how she will be able to get back on stage, it’ll only help her even more.

In the end, LeRoy sighs reluctantly. “Honey, I’m not sure--”

“Dad, I know it’ll be hard.”, Rachel assures him. How could she not? She isn’t even able to keep up her body by herself, has to lean against the wall behind her so that she wouldn’t slip down again. She’d like to lean forward and reach for his hand for emphasis, but it doesn’t work. She knows it doesn’t work. But that doesn’t mean  _ nothing _ can. “But that’s never stopped me.”

“She’s right about that,” Hiram muses, nodding his head at his husband.

Rachel can’t hide a grin at his words. Both her dads have always been supportive of her goals, but he’s always been the one who’d accepted  _ everything _ she was willing to do to reach them. 

“Besides, it’s not like we can leave her without her own means of transportation.”, he continues. “That wheelchair is a superb idea in any case.”

LeRoy still doesn’t look too happy about it and, come to think of it, Rachel can’t really blame him. He’s probably still worried for her after everything that happened. But after sharing a long look with Hiram, he sighs and nods. “You’re right.”

Rachel sends him a wide grin, one that (she hopes) contains all the gratitude she feels. For believing in her, just like her fathers have always done.

 

-

 

Naturally, things don’t get better immediately as soon as she gets her wheelchair. It isn’t just her who needs to learnt to deal with it, but her fathers, too. Penny - who is surprisingly strong for her appearance - shows them how to pick her up to get her into the chair. It’s awkward, Rachel will admit, but a necessity she will learn to deal with.

She tries to be admissive to the physical therapy the hospital grants her, but it’s not like her body does what she tells it. It’s uncooperating - that is, safe for her head. Safe for her voice. It’s her strongest companion and she values it by singing as much as she can.

Quinn also comes around some more times. Apparently, she’s decided that she has to push Rachel in order for her to ‘keep out of her funk’ - meaning that she watches her intently as she learns to handle her wheelchair. Sometimes they even sing together. It’s a satisfying thing to notice that, despite everything, Rachel’s voice  _ still _ is better.

“You know what you should do?”, Quinn asks one day after Penny’s left the room. She doesn’t wait for an answer but continues, “Prepare a performance for the first day of school.”

“Show everyone that I’m still in the game?”, Rachel muses. “Well, there isn’t even a question about that, is there?”

It goes unsaid that the performance can hardly only feature herself, but there’s an agreement about it anyways: with how often Quinn is there at the moment, it won’t be too hard to spends the time actually  _ planning _ something. It’s a good practice for later - finding out now just how the performances can go, how much Rachel can do and how the sip-and-puff system of her wheelchair strains the capability of her lungs…

But it’s also fun. Stressful, and a couple of times they end up almost screaming at each other, but it’s fun. Rachel’s back to what she’s good at and, for once, she truly values having someone by her side.

 

-

 

Going back to McKinley is quite an affair. There’s people giving her curious looks - Rachel’s learnt by now that the local newspaper has published something about her accident, but didn’t say any names. So to hear that  _ Rachel Berry is the one _ must have been the revelation of the year.

She even hears whispers, but she can’t tell whether they are good or bad or anything in between. The only thing she knows for sure is that, given the circumstances, it’s not as comfortable as she’d ever imagined having such an attention to herself.

Being back in the choir room, though, she can almost forget about it. Of course, the others are pretty weird about it, too, but they try their best to hide it. There’s even some succeeding attempts at treating her exactly the same a before.

“Rachel, I am pretty sure I speak for us all when I say: It is good to have you back.”, Mr Schuester says, his voice sounding thick - as if he was fighting off emotions. Rachel knows he’s loving to all of his students, of course, but she feels touched anyway. There’s a glitter in his eyes that indicates happiness, to a degree, but she catches him shooting a look down at her wheelchair as well.

She doesn’t want him to focus on that, or any of them for that matter, so she replies, “Well, I couldn’t let you guys down, could I?”

And predictably, even her condition can’t keep Santana from groaning at it. Poor girl, actually. She was probably sure she’d get the solo parts this year.

What surprises her, though, is Noah leaning forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. It’s certainly not the closest they’ve been when he narrows his voice and almost whispers into her ear, but the hairs on the back of her neck go up anyways. 

“If anyone gives you shit, you’ll tell me, yeah? I got ya back.”, he says, sounding both threatening and supportive. Somehow he’s the only one who can really pull it off: being adorable and scary at the same time.

“Uh,” she frowns and turns her head a little. An inch closer and her nose would brush against his mouth. “Thanks, Noah.”

“Us Jews gotta stick together.”, he says and from the corner of her eye she can see how he shrugs. As if it explains all. 

She can’t help but shoot a smile at him anyways. The time they’d dated was quite pleasant, and like everyone else in the club she’s come to learn that there’s a lot behind his mask of “badassery”. This is just a short moment of that.

He leans back again and Rachel turns her head back to the front where Mr Schue is still standing, kneading his hands. He’s probably waited to gain her attention again because as soon as her eyes find him, he announces, “I think today we should just get back to jamming. We haven’t got a single clue--”

“Actually, Mr Schue,” Rachel speaks up again. Normally she would raise her hand, but for now she has to hope her voice is suffice. She looks at Quinn quickly, who nods at her, and continues, “I have a song prepared.”

And just like that, noise rupts. It’s as if everyone in the room started talking to her at once, or maybe even to one another, judging by the hushed voices coming from where Kurt and Blaine sit. Rachel can’t make a single word that is said, but she supposes they think it must be too early for her to step into the light again. Mr Schue seems to share that sentiment since he’s frowning at her and opens his mouth to say something.

It’s Quinn, however, whose voice is clear over the crowd. She has that kind of authority in it - a determination that’s quiet to be overlooked but once she lets it out, you have to pay attention to her. It’s probably what made her cheerio captain in the first place.

“Actually, we prepared it together.”, she says calmly. When there’s no apparent reaction except for everyone looking at her, she gets up from her seat and walks up to the front. 

Rachel takes it as her cue and moves her chair forward, too, away from Artie and towards Quinn. Mr Schue still looks unsure, judging by the way her blinks at her, but he soon steps away and takes a seat in the front row.

Quinn turns around to Brad, the pianist, and talks to him quietly. It’s another thing about her - she asks if he knows the song and assures him that they’ve practiced it in a cappella, so it’s no problem if he doesn’t. Rachel doubts that any of the others (including herself) have ever even done that. She’s told Shelby once that he’s just always there, knowing when he’s needed, and never questioned it. Quinn seems to be more thoughtful. 

Brad replies something and places his hands on the keys, probably meaning that he does know the song (it’s a generic one, of course he does). Rachel sees how Quinn moves to look at her.

“You ready?”, she wants to know. There’s a small smile on her lips, quietly cheering her on, while her eyes seem kind of worried.

Rachel nods and then Quinn nods at Brad. And then the familiar beats to  _ Breakfast at Tiffany’s _ begin to play. 

Even though they’ve practiced it as well as possible, back at the hospital and at home, she can’t help but feel nervous about it. It’s weird, to not be able to sing while walking, to not use her hands while performing, to have Quinn move her around. And yet… she’s  _ performing _ . She’s doing what she likes and her and Quinn’s voices sound good together - she’s met with fascination written in the eyes of the others. As if they couldn’t believe what they’re seeing and hearing. Rachel supposes it’s a good sign. 

Is the applause louder than before? She can’t tell, but it seems like it. She’s expected some appreciation for her stubbornness regarding performing, but actually hearing and  _ feeling _ it is something else. 

She looks over at Quinn and sees her shooting her a wide smile, clapping along with the others, as if she hadn’t even been there to sing and wheel her around. It’s weird because isn’t Quinn someone who loves the attention as much as she does? 

This isn’t the moment to wonder about Quinn and her motivations. This is the moment to enjoy being back on stage, to realize that, despite everything, she  _ still has a chance _ . Rachel looks back to the front and nods at her audience in appreciation and thank, just like a star does.

 

-

 

Rachel may be a member of many clubs (she’d cut the amount of them when the glee club actually became  _ something _ and now, with her adjusting to things, it’s the only one she goes to anymore) but she’s never had many friends. And even though most of the New Directions seem to barely be able to tolerate her (due to their jealousy, probably), she considers them her friends. Noah has stayed true to his word, almost becoming a bodyguard to her - and whenever he can’t be around, he insists that either Finn, Mike or Sam are by her side. It’s sweet, and she doesn’t even know if it’s only Noah who is behind this, after all she dated Finn as well, but she notes that she’ll have to get him something nice for Purim.

Quinn also seems to be by her side more often than not. She’s got a calming presence, shooting people off with a mere look whenever they seem to come too close (Rachel’s quickly noticed that there’s differences in  _ how _ people bend down to talk to you and repeatedly apologized to Artie for having done it a lot). And somehow, it seems that ever since Rachel can’t  _ feel _ it her hand lies on top of hers at all times. Never for too long, just a second or so, but it’s there. And then it’s almost as if she can feel it. Probably because it’s so unusual.

It isn’t like people even want to attack her for anything other than before. Being small, Jewish, an artist  _ and _ a girl has already guaranteed that Rachel would get a lot of comments thrown at her. Being put into a wheelchair all of sudden, however, does not. What she gets is compassion, mostly even from people she doesn’t know. Funnily enough, for an attention seeker like she  _ is _ \- contrary to popular belief she knows it, but she’s decided to  _ own _ it - she doesn’t care much about them. The people that matter, the club, her  _ family _ , they may be still a bit wary about how to do things, but nobody acts like just looking her way could make her fall apart. It feels like not much changed after all.

And yet, everything is different. She doesn't jot down notes during her classes but uses a voice recorder, one that whoever of her friends sit closest to her will turn on and off for her - she'll use a programme at home to turn it into actual notes on her laptop. Her lunch consists of smoothies nowadays, so that she can consume them with a straw. And in glee club, she learns how to perform from Artie; and even him she can't follow completely, because in contrast to her he can sing and move at the same time. It's difficult, almost hard, but she'll be damned if she doesn't try.

It’s a whole new experience to be singing while sitting, with her breath being cut off more often than not, but she’s in good enough shape to  _ almost _ be able to deal with it. She’ll learn until the next big competition. Mr Schue is also obviously struggling with including it into the performance - the fact that she can’t do multiple things at the same time. 

“We will probably make you shine with ballads then,” he reasons. “That’s your specialty anyway.”

He’s right, of course, and Rachel wouldn’t even be able to argue, but it stings anyway. She’s become used to being one of the soloist in almost every song - no matter the style. To be pushed into one corner now seems… it’s hurtful. 

She can’t blame him. He has to think of what’s best for the club and with how things are it doesn’t seem likely she could perform properly in a pop song or the like. It’s understandable.

And despite everything, she will still have her moments to shine.

So yes, things may be different, but they’re also the same.

 

-

 

Despite everything going quite well, Rachel doesn’t get  _ used _ to how things are. She keeps forgetting that she can’t move and actually even tries to get up in the mornings. Sometimes she even thinks it might have just been a nightmare. But then she notices how her limbs don’t react to what her brain is telling them and everything comes back -  and with it the fear. Fear that things won’t work out the way they should, that she won’t be leading the life she wants to have.

That, in the end, Broadway is even more of a distanced dream now than it’s been when she was a small child.

It settles over her like a dark and heavy blanket, one she wouldn’t even be able to push off even if she  _ could _ move - sadness she hasn’t felt in years because it had been hidden behind her determination to prove everyone wrong. But how is she supposed to prove her own  _ body _ wrong? How should she fight it in her situation? It’s impossible.

She doesn’t tell her dad as much when he comes to get her out of bed, but she does say that she isn’t feeling up to school today. LeRoy is worried, of course, but when she explains that she isn’t momentarily in pain or anything but merely exhausted from the stress, he gives in, allowing her to bury her head into the pillow again. 

It’s not even the kind of sadness that allows her to cry her heart out; instead, she feels like even that would be too much for her at this point, another thing that her body won’t let her do. She lies there for a while after her dad is gone, left alone to her thoughts.

What would it even do for her if she kept pushing herself to her limits, just to be told it won’t work out, in the end? She’s been working and working every since she first got out of her hospital bed, sometimes even doing so much - what if her recovery would have done more if she’d just done things more slowly? If she hadn’t pushed so hard to get back on her feet (which had been fruitless anyway)?

 

-

 

It might have been hours that she spends lying there, just having her thoughts roam around in her head. There’s lots of regret: if she hadn’t pushed herself so hard, if she hadn’t jumped into the lake, if she hadn’t gone to the party, if she had told the others there’s no use for a bigger celebration… It all comes back to her own faults, in the end.

The door opens slowly, but suddenly nonetheless, and Rachel turns her head a little to get a look at it. She expects LeRoy to come back in again, to check up on her - or maybe it’s already time for Hiram to be back home. He’d want to greet her once he’s learnt she’s stayed at home. 

Whom she doesn’t expect is Quinn.

Even in the pale light of the lamp on her desk that LeRoy’s kept turned on, Rachel can see that Quinn looks tired. She steps into the room carefully, closing the door behind herself and then, without much further ado, turns on the big lights.

“Rachel, what the fuck?”

Her voice sounds borderline angry, like Rachel’s done something to personally offend her. When Quinn steps closer with rapid steps, Rachel closes her eyes quickly and decides to pretend that she’s asleep. Normally she would question whatever upsets Quinn so much and especially what she has to do with it, but today… Today she just can’t. She’d rather be left alone completely than be faced with real life.

With people who  _ have _ a life.

For some reason, though, Quinn won’t have it. Within a few seconds, she’s by Rachel’s bedside, sitting down on the edge of it and moves a hand to her face. Rachel had to give her credit when she pokes her cheek instead of, say, shaking her shoulder to gain her attention. Sometimes it seems like Quinn is handling Rachel’s disability better than she is herself.

“Come on, Berry, I know you’re awake.”, Quinn says as she touches her. 

Rachel can’t keep her face from scrunching up. “Stop that,” she orders, pulling her head to the side.

“You were ignoring me.”, Quinn states in a way of explanation. “On  _ purpose _ .”

“What do you want?”

She watches as Quinn places her hands in her lap and looks around the room. She doesn’t seem to look for anything in particular, because she’s wearing a bored expression when she looks down at her again. “I’ll help you sit up.”

Rachel can’t argue with that offer. If Quinn wants to have a conversation - whatever about - she’d rather not lie through it. Weirdly enough, she doesn’t feel any need for hesitation at Quinn’s offer but nods immediately. Even with her dads there’s this small moment where she  _ wonders _ if she could do it on her own, despite knowing better -  the fact that she agrees so easily now could either be her exhaustion or, at last, acceptance.

It doesn’t work at once, of course, seeing how Quinn has never tried helping her sit up, but she’s watched it enough times during the rehab. She copies the way the nurses have hooked their arms under Rachel’s and with a bit of work she’s soon propped her against the headboard of her bed.

“What time is it?”, Rachel wants to know once she has let off her.

Quinn’s breathing is a bit heavier but she’s overplaying it well enough when she look down on her phone. “Almost 4. I came here after school.”

“Why?”

She raises her eyebrows in reply. “Why weren’t you there?”

Rachel presses her lips together, avoiding her eyes. How weak would she seem to Quinn if she told her that she just  _ can’t _ do it? That it makes no sense to keep trying when nothing comes out of it anyway? 

“I thought I better check up on you-- I thought maybe something happened or you got worse and--”, she trails off. “We were worried. And then your dad tells me you’re fine, just not in the mood.”

“That’s not what I--”, Rachel starts but Quinn interrupts her.

“You know what I think? You are trying too hard to be the old Rachel Berry.”, she states. “I mean, I realize I might have made it sound like that’s who you gotta be, but that’s wrong. You’re not the same any more and you need to adjust.”

Rachel gasps at that. “Don’t you think I  _ know _ nothing is the same?”, she asks, her voice snapping.

“But did you  _ accept _ it?”, Quinn wants to know.

It’s scary, almost, how well she knows what’s going on inside of her. The thoughts that didn’t only just occur to Rachel, but the ones before - it feels like Quinn’s seeing right through her. Like she’s sensing things that Rachel didn’t even find herself and thinks they need to be addressed.

“How long did it take for you to accept you weren’t the same any more?”, she replies.

It hardly seems appropriate to even consider comparing their situations but somehow it makes sense to her. Quinn’s life had spontaneously changed, just like hers, causing her to reconsider everything she stood for and everything she wanted to be. It doesn’t seem to be too much of a stretch to guess her own pregnancy is the reason for the insight she has. 

Quinn considers it for a moment. “Long.”, she finally says, looking at Rachel with such earnesty that she swallows. “But I had to do it.”

“For Beth.”, Rachel nods.

“For  _ myself _ .”, Quinn corrects her. “You can’t just let yourself go, Rachel. Sure, you can’t do the same as before, but you can do your  _ best _ . You just have to find out what it is now.”

Rachel goes silent at that. There’s never been  _ a _ best for her before - she’s always tried to up herself, to reach the top of a mountain that she couldn’t yet see. It’s a habit she’s developed early - to become the performer she’s always dreamt to be. How could she just let go off it? Especially when it’s still supposed to be her goal?

“I can help you with that.”, Quinn offers. Again, it’s like she’s reading Rachel’s mind. “You can still be a star, Rachel, we just need to find out your new position.”

Rachel shakes her head, trying to get rid off the lump in her throat. “You don’t need to-- I know you’re still feeling responsible--”

“I thought we were friends.”

It’s a simple statement, said in a neutral voice even, and yet Quinn looks like she’s just burnt herself. The words came out of her mouth sharp despite everything, as if they’d cut her lips while doing so, judging by the way she bites onto it now and looks down.

“We are.”, Rachel insists. It’s taken too long to get there, she won’t have Quinn think it wasn’t the case. If anything, she’s one of the people who know her the best. It’s still strange to think so, but it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.

Quinn nods. “Then let us act like we are. Let me help you.”

“Okay.”

 

-

 

And suddenly, Quinn is  _ always _ there. Not in the background of a scene Rachel finds herself in, but right beside her, arguing on her behalf. Not in a way that she speaks  _ over _ her, but in addition to Rachel’s suggestions of how they could adjust their performance so that she could properly join.

Most of the time Quinn has a clearer view on what Rachel is capable of nowadays - as if she’d been watching her even before their agreement to get a gist of  _ how _ she’s been pushing too hard. From what it looks like based on the times Quinn cuts her off, it seems like she’s still doing so.

They quickly settle into a rhythm about that: once Rachel’s ended with her suggestions, everyone’s heads turn towards wherever Quinn is sitting during the current practice. It’s right next to her more often than not, but despite the attention she offers her at the moment, it’s not like Quinn has suddenly given up her own life. It doesn’t feel like either of them is pressured to spend time with one another but rather comfortable. Like they really  _ are _ friends. 

Rachel can tell that she’s not the only one irritated by the changes they have to make: there’s a tension lingering above them all, brought up by the difficulties they have to face. It’s different now because while Artie has a great voice, he’s not  _ the _ prominent performer of the club - plus, they have to keep in mind that she can’t move by herself  _ and _ sing at the same time. It’s something even Rachel keeps forgetting about.

“What I don’t understand,” Santana speaks up when they have to start anew once more during practice. Her voice is firm, drawling even. “Is why we’re pretending that Berry can do this.”

There’s a few gasps coming from all corners of the room before Rachel can even open her mouth. Both Mr Schue and Kurt call out Santana’s name, fury seething in the single word, and Noah just goes, “Woah, not cool.”

Santana drops her annoyed face for a moment. “Come on, I didn’t mean it in  _ that _ crappy way,” she argues. Judging by the way she carries herself, Rachel might just believe that. “It’s just,” Santana gestures into her direction, “It doesn’t work, does it? We’re only making things harder than they have to be.”

“Santana--”, Mr Schue starts again, taking a deep breath.

Santana shoots him a glare. “You know what? I don’t need this.”, she decides. And then she turns around and stalks off.

For a moment, there’s a silence in the room, thick as Santana’s steps echo down the hall. They’re quick, but not like she’s running of in embarrassment at her words, but in determination. She’s majorly pissed and actually… Rachel understands it. She does. 

It must be bothersome for the others to have to step back just so that she gets into the light - she knows she would probably have reacted the same as Santana. Especially when they find something new to change almost every day.

“I’m gonna talk to her.”, Quinn states. She doesn’t wait for anyone to speak up, not even for Rachel to say anything, before getting up and leaving the room as well.

Rachel looks after her, thinking that it’s probably for the better. She knows that Santana gets a lot of spontaneous outbursts sometimes, but it would be a shame to truly lose her over something like this. A part of Rachel wants to agree with her, but the other one, the fighter inside of her, wants to insist that they carry on like this - and she knows that Quinn thinks the same.

Mr Schue still seems a little overwhelmed, but he tries his best to hide it. “Rachel, don’t take this too close to the heart.”

Mercedes nods gravely. “If anything we  _ are _ here to push limits. Not just our own, but you know.”

Rachel opens her mouth to reply but is cut off when Artie wheels closer, putting a hand atop of hers. Just because she can’t feel the contact doesn’t mean she isn’t appreciating it. In fact, she likes it more than ever, because it’s as if people don’t care.

“We’ve adapted performances to me all the time.”, Artie argues. “It might take a bit more for you, but whatever, right? We’re the bomb.”

“Or we will be,” Sam adds loudly, with a smile on his face, “once we  _ are _ there.”

“Right on.”, Finn agrees.

Rachel smiles at that, turning her head a little to look at the other members of the club. They all look determined and supportive, either with serious expressions or smiles, and she returns the sentiment with a firm nod. They’re right - if there’s one thing the New Directions are good at, it’s to include everyone no matter how much they really  _ can _ contribute. 

She’s known it before, of course, but the New Directions are like a  _ family _ . They look after one another in the best way and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

-

 

With time it isn’t even too surprising any more to have Quinn show up on her doorstep somewhen during the day, mirroring her appearances back in the hospital. They haven’t even really talked about it, but it’s become clear quite early that they give each other some space before training for glee club - probably so they won’t be at each other’s throats like they used to be. Rachel is quite happy for the few hours she can spend relaxing while Quinn is at cheerio practice - she tries her best to hide it, but the whole situation is more than stressfully overwhelming for her still.

She’s become used to napping for an hour, with help of LeRoy who’s twisted his working hours to fit to her schedule, before doing homework until Quinn arrives. It’s still weird to be dictate the answers rather than to write them down so that the computer can catch up on them, but she’s never minded hearing her own voice. Of course, she figures, with essays this method could get quite tiring, but for now it works. And like with everything else, she’ll get used to it. 

The only thing she’s really worried about is how she’s gonna do her work in the week leading up to a competition then. Usually during those times she limits her speaking as much as possible to rest her voice. And given her lack of a rela performance  _ now _ , her singing needs to be even better than before to impress the audience and jury.

Quinn arrives pretty later today, only after Rachel has finished even her History 101 questionnaire, and when she steps into the living room, she looks quite exhausted. And yet, that doesn’t keep her from aiming a wide smile at Rachel once she sees her.

Rachel has long accepted that Quinn looks good, naturally. Otherwise she wouldn’t be having all the boys at her feet and the crown as McKinley’s most popular girl on her head. But it seems unfair that even with her cheeks red and hair untidy from the wind outside she looks  _ great _ . It makes her eyes seem glowing - in a good way - and Rachel can’t even feel jealous because it looks almost precious.

Quinn doesn’t do a big ceremony of saying hello first - she never does, presumably because they’ve only seen each other a few hours ago - but walks over to the couch next to Rachel and plops down on it. She can’t bite back the sigh that comes out of her mouth, causing Rachel to raise her eyebrows at her.

She doesn’t know when they started talking - actually  _ talking _ \- about what’s going on in their lives, but she supposes it’s fair that she gets her own insight into Quinn’s. It’s not like Rachel can particularly hide her own problems in any way.

Quinn doesn’t even hesitate in response, just takes another deep breath before elaborating, “Sue’s a bitch.”

Rachel huffs at that. “I thought that was a common knowledge.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agrees with a nod, “but still. One of these days she’ll get someone of the team killed with one of her crazy stunts.”

When Rachel opens her mouth to answer, she continues, “They’re not life-threatening in itself any more. We can’t report her for any of them, especially not when people  _ volunteer _ to do them.”

“ _ You _ don’t volunteer, do you?”, Rachel asks slowly. She knows that Quinn wouldn’t be stupid enough to do it for herself, but she’s most likely one of the best cheerleaders, so her taking a bullet for a worse one could probably be on the table.

The glare she earns in response makes her close her mouth immediately. Once they grew closer Rachel has learnt that Quinn looks ridiculously adorable when trying to seem angry, but well… the intentions still is that she  _ is _ angry. It’s best not to get back on her bad side.

“Anyway,” Quinn says firmly then, “I figured we could both use a break for once. So I went into the archives and got this.” 

Curiously Rachel watches she unzips the top of her coat and reaches inside, only to pull a DVD out of the inside pocket of it. If it is from the school's archive, it must be about one or more students going to McKinley. 

Rachel frowns at her. She'd thought that Quinn had stopped making fun of others. Could she have been so wrong about it? But she’d seemed so honest about helping her - what would that mean?

Relief washes over her when Quinn turns the DVD around so that she can read the title:  _ Hairspray 1992 _ . Under it is a picture of a couple and while Rachel would very much like to criticize how the girl playing Tracy looks too thin for the role, her eyes are fixed on the boy playing Link. 

“ _ No _ .,” she breathes, breaking into a grin.

Quinn nods. “Yep,” she replies, popping the p. “I thought we could just, like, see what the old club was up to. I mean, we knew Schue was a big number but I didn’t think we’d get to compare him to Zac Efron.”

Rachel can’t help but snicker at that. She’s long grown out of what she’d interpreted as a crush on their teacher (thinking back to it makes her cringe) but there’s no denying that he made a pretty 16-year-old. But then again, the look of the 50s can do that to everyone.

Still, it could be fun watching his performance - it’s impressive, actually, considering the first movie hadn’t even been five years old in that year. There’s not many things over than that one to base their own production on, so it’ll be an interesting research.

“Sounds good.”, Rachel decides, sending a smile at Quinn.

With her commentary Quinn manages to put the DVD into the player and turn the TV onto the right channel. They’ve quickly decided that there’s no need for any snacks, especially not since Rachel wouldn’t be able to eat them by herself, so within a few minutes Quinn is on the couch again, pulling her legs closer. 

“That’s not Schue’s ex, is it?”, Quinn comments after a while. “Can’t imagine that Terri’s ever been  _ that _ cute.”

Rachel shakes her head. “She hasn’t been in the club.” She thinks of adding that she’s been the head cheerleader, though, just to tease Quinn but decides against it. Knowing Quinn’s history with Mr Schue’s ex-wife, she probably wouldn’t appreciate being compared to her.

They watch the recording mostly in silence, safe for a few comments Quinn makes about how the people look. Rachel throws in her own opinions about the singing a few times, and since Quinn knows at least the remake of the movie, she’s able to answer them almost appropriately. What they soon agree on is the ridiculousness of having  _ no _ black people on stage - Quinn is more enraged about it than Rachel would have expected.

It’s apparent that it’s a school production, of course, and it might not even be particularly good, but Rachel’s fascinated by it anyway. They’ve done quite a good job with the costumes, in her opinion and at least Schue and the girl playing Tracy really were the best singers present. 

It should be weird that she’s sitting here with Quinn Fabray of all people and there’s no ugly words between them - if any, it’s meant in a playful way and both of them laugh more often than not. It’s a nice sound, Rachel decides, way better than the biting tone she used to have in her voice during their first conversations, and different from the times she just  _ played _ nice. She should probably keep track of what kind of words cause her to actually be cheerful and use them more often.

It’s weird, but Quinn might have become her best friend. Probably because she doesn’t treat her any differently. She doesn’t act like Rachel’s disability isn’t there - but she also doesn’t pity her for it. She takes it as it is, treats her mostly the same as before and it grants her some sense of normality. 

Who would have thought she could ever be grateful to have Quinn Fabray in her life?

 

-

 

It’s not like they become attached to the hip. They have their own lives, their own classes, own hobbies - and yet, it’s like Quinn’s always  _ there _ . If not physically, then in Rachel’s thoughts at least. 

She keeps replaying the last conversations they had, the tips Quinn gives her. They way she tenses when someone is looking at Rachel the wrong way and the soft glim in her eyes when she smiles. Noticing these things gives her a wave of satisfaction, like she’s paying her back by paying attention to the small things, even keeps thinking about them as she tries to fall asleep.

It’s easy to memorize specific traits of Quinn’s with the time they spent together during and out of school - sometimes it seems like Rachel can tell when something upsets Quinn before she even opens her mouth; even before the wrinkles between her eyebrows appear as she frowns. It’s like a shift in the atmosphere between then, something that Rachel can sense despite the lack of feeling in her body.

Everything seems to fall together now, so well even that Rachel forgets this isn’t what it’s always been like. Their performance is shaping up into something great for Sectionals and she’s adjusted well enough to everything that struggles seem like obstacles and not like usual life. 

It seems that everything’s coming up Rachel Berry.

 

-

 

Sectionals takes place at McKinley this year, so Rachel’s thankful that she - and Artie, too, of course - doesn’t have to worry about how to get her wheelchair onto the stage. She’s seen it more often than not that they needed improvised ramps that looked more than breakable because apparently it wasn’t ‘normal for a glee club to include wheelies’.

But - in all honesty - that is the only thing she’s happy about right now. It’s the only thing going right while her lips are to dry, her head swirls and her voice - her  _ voice _ sounds like she’s eaten nails for breakfast. 

It’s not that Rachel is a stranger a stranger to stage fright. No, despite what it may look like usually, she knows it pretty well. And that’s why she knows that’s not what this is - she isn’t scared of performing, not even of being bad all of sudden. It’s just… she  _ can’t _ do it. Her body won’t let her, that’s everything it’s been telling her the whole time, and now it’s actually so bad that even the movable parts of her body rebel and her breathing’s going up--

“Rachel?”

She doesn’t look up even when Quinn steps closer to her - she’d wheeled aside earlier to get some more air, to have a moment of quiet - and even when she kneels down so that they’re face-to-face, it’s like there’s a veil parting them.

Rachel shakes her head. “I can’t do this. What was I even thinking? There’s no way I can manage, moving myself already takes enough breath--”

“Rachel, you did  _ fine _ during practice.”

“What is an actress without a performance? Nothing! I should just give up, it makes no sense otherwise-- You can’t just sit on stage and expect everyone to listen, you need to  _ sell _ it--”

Quinn lets out a sigh, a tired one like she finds the conversation unnecessary. “It fits perfectly fine into our performance  _ and _ your voice is enough to lure them in.”

“We will lose and it will be my fault for being so stupid. I shouldn’t have insisted on rejoining - we will lose and it’s gonna be my fault--!”

Rachel doesn’t know what else she was gonna say, just that her mouth opens and closes and words pour out without any stopping; she doesn’t even think about them. She’s cut off in the middle of her rambling when a pair of lips crush into hers. 

They’re gone before she can even react to the softness of them, so different from Finn’s or Puck’s - and  _ hers _ . They’re smooth from lipgloss and the surprise is enough to make her stop talking.

Instead, she blinks up at Quinn.

“You will shut up now.”, she orders. There’s a determination in her eyes that tells Rachel there’s no point in arguing. That there’s not even the time to think about what has just happened. “You will turn around and  _ get behind the stage _ .”

Rachel gulps but follows suit, moving her wheelchair and rolling back to the others. She doesn’t have the opportunity to talk to Quinn about  _ what just happened _ or even to panic any more because Mr Schue starts giving off his best speech, additional comments provided by seemingly everyone but her - and Quinn, that is. 

Rachel watches her to see if anything’s off. She knows that surprise, shock even, helps with panic attacks, so it would make that Quinn did something that nobody would have expected. But still… to even think about it? Is that possible so fast, on the spot? 

She can’t indulge into her own thoughts for long. Pushing them away for a performance is what she does best, after all.

 

-

 

“ _ Quinn _ ,” Rachel says, panting a little from how she’s rushed to get through the crowd. One would think it would be easier if there’s a wheelchair that requires space, but during celebrations it seems like people turn blind.

Quinn’s found her way to the other end of the room quite easily in contrast, and while Rachel wonders  _ how _ she’s done it, she has quite an idea  _ why _ . The way her eyes widen when she snaps her head down to look at her practically screams that she’d do anything but talk to her. 

But that’s only even more reason to do it, isn’t it?

As shellshock as Quinn seems, she doesn’t back away. Instead, she keeps standing where she is, her eyes fixed on Rachel as she drops her arms to the side and waits for her to roll closer.

It intimidates Rachel in turn - if Quinn had meant to deflect it, she could have gone along with it. They could have agreed to never speak of it again, to act like it never even happened. She’d even forgotten about it during the performance - too enthralled into the fact that she really is back on stage and even though the boys shoved her wheelchair instead of her dancing along, it had felt even more amazing than ever before.

“Hey,” Quinn says finally when they’re close enough. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks to you!”, Rachel replies honestly. She doesn’t back down from admitting it. Without Quinn, she would’ve given up long ago; several times even. “Thanks for, uh, calming me down earlier--”

Despite her thick makeup, it looks like Quinn is going pale at her words. She stumbles over her words, “That-- Of course, I would have-- You were close to a panic attack, I think.”

Rachel bites her lip. “So you… you only--  _ kissed _ me to--”

Finally Quinn looks away from her, lifting her head and closing her eyes as she takes a breath. Rachel can practically see the gears in her head turn as she thinks about what to answer and it should be enough - but she needs to  _ hear _ it. Because it seems so unreal otherwise: Quinn Fabray? Kissing her? Because she wants to?

And even more so, she didn’t realize that maybe she’d want her to. That her watching Quinn has soon turned from a judgemental, maybe even jealous, way to more than appreciation. That seeing Quinn laughing sends a warmth through her body, one that makes her crave for hearing the sound more often.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Quinn blinks a few times into her direction, still unsure but  _ trying _ . It’s quiet when she answers. “I-- maybe not.”

“Maybe,” Rachel repeats, in a voice that probably isn’t audible for Quinn. At that - at the chance it offers, she feels heat creep up her cheeks, accompanied by a small smile. “Would a, uh, dinner help with- with the decision?”

For a moment she thinks that she’s offended Quinn with her words. The other’s mouth falls open even while Rachel’s still speaking, and her eyebrows looks like they’re disappearing in her hairline. But then she starts chuckling, “Smooth, Berry.”

It takes a few seconds until Rachel realizes that she isn’t laughing at  _ her idea _ but merely at its execution. She breaks into a smile, too. “So, what do you say?”

“You want to go out with me.”, Quinn clarifies. Rachel nods without hesitation, and she continues, “That fits. Does tomorrow work for you?”

It sounds almost casual and if they hadn’t spent so much time together lately, Rachel wouldn’t have noticed how nervous she is about it - as nervous as she is herself. Quinn keeps grinning the whole time, fidgeting with her hands and it’s  _ adorable _ . 

Even if Rachel didn’t have time tomorrow, she’d definitely make room for her.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Please leave a comment!**  
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